Still Doll
by DarkSecrets666
Summary: 'Blue cloth was stained red and the ragged breathing of the dying demon finally stopped as his opponent dropped him to the floor,his empty body flopping uselessly to the pavement with a harsh smack that broke the fragile bones of the skull. It didn't hurt the small,demonic boy; nothing ever would again. He was dead.' What else is Sebastian supposed to do other than bring Ciel back?
1. Chapter 1

Blood dribbled down flesh and soaked the pavement. Blue cloth was stained red and the ragged breathing of the dying demon finally stopped as his opponent dropped him to the floor, his empty body flopping uselessly to the pavement with a harsh smack that broke the fragile bones of the skull. It didn't hurt the small, demonic boy; nothing ever would again.

He was dead.

Sebastian didn't understand.

_Ciel is dead _

He couldn't comprehend the simplistic mortality of it all.

_Ciel is dead_

How? Why? Why wasn't he moving? Why couldn't Ciel simply slip back into his body?

_Ciel is dead_

The opponent was destroyed by the youngling's guardian but it was too late. There was nothing to be done except...

"Bring him back!"

The Undertaker, the most famed of all the reapers, stared at the butler with a mixture of amusement and confusion. "Bring him back, eh?" he chuckled, his eyes on Sebastian though hidden by long bangs of greying white hair. "You know what you're asking for, Butler. The little earl will never be the same again if I manage to do what you demand."

"Just...just bring him back..."

Those thin lips curved into an eerie grin and the Undertaker tipped his hat in an almost mocking fashion. "Then it shall be done but, first, my payment." Giddy with something akin to hope, Sebastian gave him every joke, every one liner, every comedy sketch he could for the next hour until Undertaker could undertake no more. The reaper took Ciel's body into his back room where he began to work on the little dead demon.

* * *

Hours passed and eventually Sebastian was ushered into the room. "He's about to awake." Undertaker sniggered as the two went into the back room where Ciel's body lay on the bed, pale and unmoving. "Just the finishing touch...the original soul..." Undertaker pushed in the little ball of light that had once held so much wonder for Sebastian, that had once been so tempting now smelled like dead flowers; still pleasant but spoke only of endings and death, rotting with darkness and loneliness.

Sebastian had little time to dwell on this however for, no sooner did those thoughts enter his mind, Ciel began to awaken. First his fingers flexed and then his eyes fluttered open, each the magnificent blue they had been as a human child until the orbs slowly clouded over with a bloody red. Undertaker took Ciel's arms and pulled him into a sitting position like the boy was nothing more than a rag doll.

"Ciel?" Sebastian dared to utter the undead's name and those eyes, those red, empty eyes looked up at Sebastian from beneath those overgrown bangs. "Ciel, I..."  
"I wouldn't bother." Undertaker said and Sebastian frowned. "He's not fully functional yet. Speaking will be...a little difficult for a while. I advise you take him home."

Sebastian nodded and picked Ciel up. The boy didn't stop him but nor did he accept Sebastian's arms around him. In fact, he didn't respond at all. His small, limp body just flopped in Sebastian's arms like a useless newborn. "Ciel..." Sebastian murmured softly to the small bundle in his arms as he walked out of Undertaker's shop.

* * *

Ciel sat on the chair, staring at nothing in particular. For the past hour he had taken no interest in anything. Not blood. Not souls. Nothing stimulated his attention for longer than a few seconds. Ciel stared blankly at the elder male, barely even blinking. He was nothing more than a limp doll that sat slumped in the same seat for hours. Sebastian wasn't even sure Ciel could even move on his own.

"Ciel?"

The demonic doll looked up at his guardian for a moment, his eyes dull and lifeless, before they lowered and he stared into nothing.

Sebastian let out a sigh and stroked the younger's porcelain cheek. "You are precious to me." he murmured and rested their foreheads together. "Speak to me, young master, say something." The old one near begged but not a word was uttered by the demonic doll. The elder shook his doll desperately, pleading for just a syllable, an utterance, anything would do so long as Sebastian could hear that voice just one more time. "Please... I love you."

If this had been a fairytale, Ciel would have lifted his head as if true love had broken the spell.

But this was not a fairytale and true love does not conquer all.

The still doll didn't stir, didn't move, barely even breathed.

Sebastian let go and the doll flopped back into his seat, staring blankly into nothingness, staring into an eternal dark void of hopelessness and lifelessness.

"Ciel."

Ciel was dead and Sebastian could do nothing about it.

"Ciel..."

Ciel was dead and this thing that sat in his place was nothing more than that; a thing.

"...I love you, Ciel."

Ciel was dead and perhaps it was time to say goodbye.

But Sebastian could never do that.

* * *

As the days rolled by, movement became easier for the doll and his reactions improved slowly. His mind muddled through the recognition of Sebastian's voice, processing the various different tones his owner used. Slowly, he began to adjust and accepted Sebastian's tenderness in silence. Every affectionate touch and gesture was something to be allowed and Ciel permitted it.

Sex was also something the little doll became accustom too and the many ways their bodies responded to one another's touch. For the most part, Ciel was as silent as ever but, every now and then, Sebastian managed to coax a gasp from the younger male. Moments like that was something Sebastian lived for. Sebastian made very sure that the boy gasped and writhed beneath him, trembling in pleasure and arching into his touch. No words were needed when Ciel showed such obvious pleasure.

At the end of it, Ciel would lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling until Sebastian made it clear he wanted to snuggle. The doll didn't seem to mind and closed his eyes, slipping into an unconscious state to rest.

Mornings seemed to be the same. Ciel learned that Sebastian delighted in feeding him and brightened when Ciel responded to his own name. He fussed over the young doll, touching and cooing. Sometimes Ciel's lips moved as if attempting to speak. Little sound emerged but it made Sebastian happy to see him try to respond to the elder.

As quiet as the young one was, Sebastian's babbling made up for it. He filled the silence in place of the sweet tones of his charge's voice out of the need for some kind of noise. Ciel was still quite apathetic, his big blue eyes barely maintaining any evidence of a consciousness hidden behind that baby face. His gaze followed his guardian around throughout the day and appeared to have no other habits. Quiet and obedient, Ciel complied with the demon's whims as best as he was able but, of course, he needn't do much.

Just letting Sebastian hold him and touch him a lot was enough.

* * *

Eventually, Sebastian felt it was time to move on. The fled to Europe, to a small manor in France but the doll seemed unfamiliar with the extravagant life style, shying away from the few servants Sebastian had hired and kept to his room most of the time. It was then that Sebastian realised that Ciel didn't remember... anything.

It tore at his insides to realise that Ciel probably didn't even know who Sebastian was let alone the demon's name. It explained Ciel's watchful eyes as well as his need to keep close to the elder. He remembered nothing of his mortal life or his demon life. All Ciel knew was that he existed and that Sebastian loved him dearly.

Upon this new realisation, Sebastian kept Ciel close and tried to make the boy more comfortable in the manor. They slept in the same room, whether they had sex or not, and Sebastian insisted on bathing the younger.

Slowly, very slowly, Ciel began to emerge from his shell. At first it was just little things like holding Sebastian's hand simply because he wanted to or seeking out the elder when the doll was alone. Then there were bigger things, slight smiles and more response in the bedroom.

And then he spoke.

"Sebastian..."

And Sebastian was happy at long last.


	2. Chapter 2

Ciel's speech progressed rapidly with Sebastian's help and, to Sebastian's delight, they were finally able to converse. Silence was no longer filled with Sebastian's babble though Ciel didn't say much, preferring to remain quiet, but at least there was something more than Sebastian. It sometimes felt as though the old Ciel was back but the doll's lack of memory constantly reminded him that this was not so.

It was soon clear that Ciel very much enjoyed sex if his eagerness was anything to go by. Ciel delighted in making Sebastian moan and was fond of just about every position. Being taken swiftly from behind appeared to be a favourite of Ciel's. He moaned louder when Sebastian pounded in from behind, gripping the younger's hips or pulling on his hair. The boy was not made of china and he appreciated it when Sebastian remember that and was rough with him. His screams of pleasure confirmed his enjoyment if Sebastian doubted it.

Undertaker was a frequent visitor, curious as to how his doll was getting along. Ciel, though shy, didn't protest to these visits. He saw the reaper as his maker, not understanding that there had been a life before his rebirth. Sebastian didn't like it when Undertaker visited, afraid that the ancient god of death would find humour in telling the fragile doll of his origins.

Time went by as it usually did and Undertaker never breathed a word. This didn't make Sebastian any less nervous, however.

Ciel continued to develop, his humanity seeping into his actions as his apathetic nature finally resolved itself. He was shy, however, and was often more quiet than he was loud. He stayed in the manor most of the time, unwilling to let the outside world disturb his concept of reality. The few times Sebastian managed to convince him to emerge from the safe haven of his bedroom and out to the daunting nightmare that was Paris, Ciel always found himself running into trouble. Apparently his skill of being frequently kidnapped was still very much present in Ciel's new life.

There was always safety in Sebastian's arms; Ciel learnt that quickly and, whenever he got scared, he would find himself in his lover's embrace. Whispers of love were never far from Ciel's ear, murmured in times of passion and solitude alike. Contact was constant, their fingers laced together frequently and Ciel was kept close even in sleep. There was beauty found in the bond the two shared, the deep rooted affection clear in even the smallest of movements.

Sometimes Ciel would cry and Sebastian would hold him. Life was confusing and Ciel didn't understand things in away a human would, or a demon. Why was blue not like the colour green? Why couldn't you taste shapes or see smells? He found it had to accept that some things just were how they were. It confused him. He liked touching though. Touching was calming and warm and felt so incredible. He liked skin. Sebastian's skin against his was incredible.

He touched the Undertaker once out of curiosity. The old reaper was cold and clammy, like death. His skin wasn't like Sebastian's skin; it was rough and cold and there was no real scent, just the smell of rotting corpses clinging to his robes. Sebastian had a scent though. He smelled like all the things that made Ciel think of home.

Ciel didn't understand why Sebastian was so mad he touched the Undertaker, he didn't understand why it was wrong. He cried and cried when his lover became angry, when Sebastian shouted and fell to his knees. He pushed Ciel away when the little doll tried to hold his demon. Ciel fell. He wasn't hurt, not physically.

He didn't share a room with Sebastian any more.

Ciel was quiet. He stayed sat in his bed, staring at the door, waiting for Sebastian to come in. Once or twice he heard the elder demon outside and hope blossomed in his chest but that hope was crushed when he heard those footsteps fade away. His vision blurred as he cried quietly, holding a cushion tightly to his chest. He got scared and Sebastian wasn't there to hold him any more.

Eventually, he stopped being scared. Eventually, he stopped crying. Eventually, he stopped moving at all.

* * *

"A doll! A doll! A china doll!"

A girl played with her tea-set and her dolls, one life-sized doll with sad sapphire eyes sat staring straight ahead as the girl sipped her imaginary tea while she listened to songs played by her sister on the piano. "Robin loves tea, Mama!" the girl said cheerfully.

The girl's mother smiled from her paperwork, giving an uncertain look to the life-sized doll seated comfortably next to her daughter. The doll had been in her grandmother's manor house when the old woman had died, found sat on a bed in a guest room. The girl's mother knew her daughter loved the doll dearly but the doll was eerie in its realism.

The doll just seemed so sad, those large sapphire blue eyes filled with all the hurt of the ages. But it was just a doll. How could anyone get worked up about a doll? Besides, her daughter would grow out of it and, once again, the doll would be put away in storage.

The girl's mother found herself staring at the doll for longer that she'd care to admit, studying the thing while her daughter played. It always surprised her to touch the doll and found it so cold to the touch. A sudden rush of sympathy went out to the doll. Why had such a beautifully crafted thing just been left behind? The woman shook her head and went back to her paperwork as her daughter played cheerfully with her cups of imaginary tea and water. "Oops!" the little girl cried as she splashed water, getting it over her dolls.

A droplet landed on the doll's eye and rolled down the doll's cheek like a single tear.


	3. Chapter 3

A broken doll sat idly in a shop window for used and broken toys, its sad eyes just staring into the street. It's blue hair had once been so tidy was now matted and it's red lips were now as pale as its snowy skin. His expensive shirt and jacket were little more than rags and covered in tea-stains and dirt. Those eyes had passers staring, trying to figure out if the doll was really a doll; surely those eyes were far too sad for it to truly be art?

A myth circled the doll: if two lovers passed by hand-in-hand on a moonless night, the doll would shed tears and its eyes would turn red. No one knew who started that story, just that there were witnesses swearing it was true. Few believed the myth but the story was told over and over, the romance being a sweet little story for anyone who believes in love.

"What a lovely doll. Such a shame it's broken," the kind voice of a loving grandmother drifted through the small store, disturbing the dust floating around in the air as she brought a doll for her granddaughter, born just a year ago, March of 1973.

"Yes, it was left here for repairs and the owner never came back," the store owner replied gravely as he cleaned his glasses, clearly disappointed with the behavior of the previous owner. "I kept trying to fix him but he keeps breaking. Such a shame. He's a beautiful doll."

The old woman nodded her agreement, glancing empathetically at the doll with the sad eyes. She had known loss too, remembering as she touched the old engagement ring from her first love who left her eighty-four years ago almost to the day. "Good day, George."

"Wait a moment," the old man smiled and handed the woman a gift. "I missed your ninety-ninth, Lady Elizabeth."

It was this night the old woman passed away, smiling in her sleep that would be her last as she dreamed of the boy that would have been her husband, imagining he had come back to her, imagining that they were young again, soon to be married.

How she had loved him so.

The store went quiet as night chased away daylight. The doll stared and stared and stared. Unmoving and silent as the grave. And sad and lonely and so very fragile, made more so as the decades rolled by slowly. Time seemed not this doll's friend, moving by as slow as possible and the doll was forced to endure.

Autumn became winter, winter became spring and spring became summer and summer became autumn. The cycle went on just as it had always had done. The days turned into night just as surely as the night turned into day.

Time was passing and, with time comes tragedy and misery.

The owner of that little shop died and her son sold the store. Everything had to go, everything had to be shipped off or sold at auction. This doll was sold to a collector only to be left in the attic for many long years, collecting dust. Once or twice a year, someone would come up and see the doll covered in dust. Covered everywhere from its eyes to its cheeks as if it had spent all these years crying.

* * *

Whispers from a crow had something stir within the doll but it did not move nor blink, he only cried in silence, mournful for the loss that came from a lack of education, a lost past and a misunderstanding. The doll wanted to speak, to reply and tell the crow of his sorrow and pain but the tears took words. Besides, crows were all liars. The crow flew away but it returned by dusk to find the doll just as it had been; broken. He had stopped crying, at last, but somehow this was worse. He stared and stared and stared, those large sad eyes doing little other than it had done for many years.

"Ciel..."

The doll's eyes flickered, responding only slightly to his own name having not heard it in so long.

"Were you waiting for me?"

There was silence for a long time before there came an answer. "I stopped waiting a long time ago."

The crow shifted on the window sill it was perched upon before it spread its wings to fly away.

"Is there... is there nothing left for us?" the doll asked.

Another silence stretched between them, going on and on for the longest of times before, at last, the crow responded before flying away into the dawning sky.

"My heart will always belong to you."

* * *

Only a few years passed since seeing the crow again but the doll was left alone once more, hope warmed his still doll heart but that hope fade as months rolled by and the crow was not seen again. The doll waited, staring out the attic window. It was almost like a game but the doll was so tired of games, so tired of waiting.

Had he not been made for his crow? Had he not been designed to love the demon who had cared for him? Had he not been made to be perfect? So why had he been left? Why was he alone? He had apologised so many times for his lack of understanding, for his inability to realize why it had been wrong. He had design flaws. He was imperfect. Was that why he had been left behind?

He hated this window. He hated this attic, this house and the family that had lived and grown beneath this room that he had been trapped in for near twenty years. All he wanted was to go back to that manor in France and live once again in Sebastian's arms. He wanted away from this attic, this house and its people, this dump centred in London. He wanted Sebastian. He needed him as surely as the earth needed rain.

He dreamed of him sometimes then would wake crying when Sebastian wasn't beside him, when he realized the dream was simply a memory, still a flicker of hope burning in the back of the doll's mind.

But all fires burn out eventually.

Summer became autumn again, the cold rain leaking into the attic but the inhabitants didn't notice. The whether was never pleasant in England. Birds had started evacuating, flying away for the summer. Of course there were the exceptions, such as the little robin perched on an attic chair.

Waiting. Still waiting.


End file.
